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Office Hours 𝜗𝜚⋆
Summary: Anakin definitely has a favorite student.
Pairing: Prof!Anakin x Student!Fem!Reader
Warnings: READER IS 18!, masturbation (m receiving), mentions of sex, no use of ‘y/n’, undertones of grooming.
A/N: Ik this shouldn’t be glorified, but i also crave for an older man to tell me he’s proud of me and that i’m doing a good job <\3. Also i hope the perspective changes make sense in this!
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Anakin loved grading your work, in fact, he set aside your papers so he could grade them together.
He taught a required course, one that all student who wished to have a degree in anything to do with English had to take and pass. Some hated it, most just did their work and got their grade.
But not you.
You cared, Anakin could tell. you were always on time, you were attentive, a gifted writer, a wonderful person, and a great student. On top of all that, you were the prettiest girl he’d ever seen.
At first he kicked himself for his feelings, telling himself it was inappropriate, that it was wrong, how dare he think about one of his students like that! But you were 18 and he was only 32, that’s not so bad right?
The more he stared to feel about you, the more he let himself think about you. How could he not? When you always wore little pink bows at the back of your pigtails, when your lips were always pink and glossy, your cheeks always flushed when he’d compliment your work. You were truly an angel, perhaps a goddess; but that didn’t matter to him.
He’d worship you either way.
The ding of a clock indicated that he had 30 minutes to grade before his next class started, the class you were in, and he dug into the pile of ungraded work like it was the best book he’d ever read.
The last assignment Anakin gave was easy but long, a research paper on a book of your choice. Then you had to take notes on your work and turn in the paper and notebook.
He was giddy with he saw yours, the essay neatly tucked into the cover of the notebook, adorned with a small smiley face on the corner by your name. Anakin saved yours for last, a little treat he reminded himself as the other students’ work was less than savory.
When he got to yours he opened it up and almost groaned with excitement. never would he be over how neat and tidy your handwriting was, nor the fact that you wrote the whole thing in with a crisp, pink ballpoint pen.
Your work was superb, as always.
Anakin could have cum in his pants from how careful your essay was, the time and detail was apparent as he read through your incredible notes. He read both over and over again before the filing in of students reminded him that class was starting soon.
He wrote a few notes on your work and put it in the stack of graded notebooks to hand back.
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“Brilliant work as always clever girl”
The words seemed to jump out at you, they were right next to the big red 98% on the corner of the essay you just got back from your favorite professor.
Surely it meant nothing, he was a professor, an educator, he was meant to praise those who did good, so why when directed to you did it always feel so different?
‘Maybe i’m just better than the people in here’ was the thought that jumped forward in your mind, of course your professor didn’t have a crush on you! what a silly thought to even entertain!
Yet his glances at you when you left the classroom, and the fixing of his pants when you smiles and waved at him made you think otherwise.
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Anakin was rock hard when your class got out. the look on your face when you saw your final grade and the little note he wrote was enough to make a lesser man moan out loud. The way you chewed on your nail the rest of the class and jotted down notes had him sitting down so his erection was less apparent.
Naturally, he wasted no time when the day ended.
He quickly discarded himself of his blazer before sitting in his desk chair and unzipping his pants, his aching dick slapping against his stomach as he pulled down his boxers and immediately started rubbing the pad of his thumb over his leaking tip.
He wondered what it would feel like if it was your cunt, the mewls that would erupt from your throat, the desperate movement of your hips as he pounded you into his desk, the wet slapping of your arousal, god he craved you.
After gently teasing himself for a few moments, he fully wrapped his hand around his full length and began to messily jerk himself, your name falling from his lips like a sacred mantra.
The moment felt so good, the feeling of his hand was heavenly against his aching length, it was so good that he began to wonder what he could do to get you to let him fuck you, asking you up front could lead to him losing his job, no.. he needed privacy, he needed to know you wanted it to.
Ropes of cum spurted from his fat dick, the moments of clarity allowing him to think of the most perfect scheme.
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The flutter in your heart was almost painful, you had ran the moment over and over again in your mind. Double, triple, quadruple checking that you weren’t crazy, that your beloved professor did, in fact, call you sweetheart.
If you were a man you’d 100% have a boner right now.
All you did was mention how you were proud of yourself for your grade on your last assignment, you were not expecting your beloved Professor Skywalker to quip back with-
“I’m proud of you too sweetheart”
-you could’ve cum right there, and you might’ve if you didn’t race out of that classroom like someone was chasing you.
This was wrong, horrible, ghastly. Though he wasn’t married, he had a tendency to ramble during his lectures, he was still 32! a whole 14 years older than you! But no amount of self-scrutiny could stop you from wanting to tangle your hands in his shaggy blonde curls while you rode him like a stallion.
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The next few weeks felt interesting to say the least.
It seems your professor was un-aware of how much he was affecting you. the semester was coming to a close, so he rid himself of his blazer to prepare for the summer air, dawning only a white button up that displayed his back muscles the way they deserved.
You wanted to rip him apart, claw at his back until it was bloody and raw, suck on his skin untill you were the only thing he could feel, you wanted to destroy him, the only stronger feeling in your system was your want for him to destroy you.
His little notes also changed. It went form standard teacher notes like:
Awesome! or you did great!
to ones you could tell he only left on your paper, adorned in the corner of everything you got back was:
good girl, i’m so proud, i knew you could do it princess
It was getting too much to bare, he even started to touch you, to let his hands linger. Like when he passed you in the library and places his hands on your hips to move by you. It was too much.
He had to know what he was doing right? he had to know that you were rubbing your pussy raw to the thought of him, gridding pillows and hooking up with random boys that had similar mops of curly blonde hair and piercing cobalt eyes. he had to right?
He did.
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Anakin knew he had you. Weeks of teasing, testing the waters, leading you to him, and you finally took the bait.
When he opened his E-Mail this morning and saw one from you he almost jumped out of his skin. it was professional, just you saying that you’d like to chat about your grades, but he knew, he knew the moment you walked in that you were his, that you’d do whatever he wanted.
It just so happened he was unavailable the rest of the day after you scheduled your office hours.
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Anakin groaned, he thought maybe he could wait, that he could hold in his desires for after you two spoke, but he just couldn’t. He was uncomfortably. hard, his whole body was shaking from need, and it was still 5 minutes until you had scheduled to see him.
despite his better judgments, he undid his belt and palmed himself through his boxers, it felt so good, his balls were heavy with need and the tiny wet patch indicated that he needed to get off, now.
Yanking down his boxers, he did the same thing he did everytime he was alone with the thought of you, his hand pumping up and down his fat cock. The only thing he could hear was the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears. he was so deaf, in fact, that he didn’t hear the rattle of the turning knob to his office door.
“Professor Skywal-“ your voice was sweet like velvet. His eyes shot open.
shit.
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part 2? maybe?
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